Told You So
by Annabell Archer
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, age twelve, has been asked to the seventh grade dance by none other than Amelia Pond. Both don't have too many friends, and both only go to ease their fussing family. On the way they have an argument - is the raggedy doctor real?


This was it. Tonight was destined to be the best night of his life, and young Sherlock Holmes wasn't going to treat the occasion lightly. Amelia Pond, one of the, as Sherlock called them, "normal kids" had asked him to the seventh grade dance. She was a bit odd, but still had more friends than the diminutive detective. Sherlock figured he better accept despite the fact he wasn't that crazy about the IQ the crowd was certain to have. At the very least he could take advantage of the fact that this girl had normal friends, and might even be able to influence the popular kids that picked on him so much. If he could befriend her tonight, then perhaps they'd lay off. But it's not like he was going to try extra hard; he already had plenty of enemies, what was one more?

It was 6:50, Amelia would be there in five minutes and they would walk to the dance. He had gotten into his best dress shirt, a purple one, and a black blazer and pants. As he was attempting for the fourth time to make his wild curls a little tamer, he heard the doorbell and footsteps telling him that his mother was answering it. He came downstairs just as she was opening the door.

Amelia was standing with her...mother? No, Sherlock thought. He guessed aunt. She and his mother began talking while Amelia smiled at Sherlock. She looked like this dance was important to her as well; her bright orange hair was curled and she wore a light blue dress that made her look similar to Alice from that incredibly illogical fairy tale Sherlock had heard about.

"She doesn't care, if that what you're thinking." Mycroft's voice made Sherlock flinch.

"What makes you say that?" Sherlock snapped. "Why else would she ask me to the dance?"

"Her aunt put her up to it," Mycroft said matter-of-factly. "If anything, you'll just get made fun of if you go."

"Shut up," Sherlock hissed

"Hi, Sherlock." said Amelia, walking over.

"Hello." the curly-haired boy responded, almost… shyly.

"Ready to go?" asked the redhead.

"Yes, I believe I'll be driving you." said Mycroft before Sherlock could respond, looking bored.

"Hey, auntie! We're leaving!" said Amelia.

Doesn't have a good relationship with her aunt. Going by her abruptness, she finds her overprotective. She is looking forward to this night if for no reason other than it will be a night away from her. Hard to say if she actually wants my company or not.

Soon the trio were in Mycroft's car, on their way to Sherlock and Amelia's school. Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Pond had stayed behind to talk about their children, much to the younger pair's relief. The beginning passed in silence for a minute or two, before Mycroft switched on some news station.

About five minutes before they were to arrive, Amelia spoke. "Why did you say yes?"

Sherlock considered this for a moment before giving up. "Huh?"

Amelia huffed in annoyance. "You're observant, Sherlock. I know you've noticed all the girls staring at you. I know for a fact that a lot of them have asked you out, and you've said no, and I'm almost certain you would've said no if any of them had asked you to the dance, which I'm sure a couple did. Why did you say yes to me?"

Sherlock considered this. "Oh, I see. You wanted to ask someone you were certain would say no, with the thought it wouldn't be bad if they said yes, but you wanted a no because your aunt wouldn't let you out to the dance unless you had a date, because otherwise she was convinced you would leave the dance, sit in a corner the whole time, or not be social in some other way." Sherlock could tell by the look on Amelia's face he had hit the mark, though she didn't look ashamed or embarrassed. "If you must know, I said yes because you are probably the least annoying girl in the school, and my annoying brother says I need more social interaction if I want to be successful in life."

"The annoying brother can hear you, you know." interjected Mycroft from the front.

Both the younger ones ignored him, Amelia contemplating Sherlock's words.

"Thanks… I think."

"You're not disappointed are you?" asked Sherlock, almost teasingly.

"No, I suppose not." said Amelia,

Suddenly something in the girl's bag caught Sherlock's eye.

"What's that?" he asked gesturing towards it.

Amelia looked where he was pointing and pulled out what appeared to be a small doll. "He's my raggedy doctor." she said.

The doll was wearing a mini trenchcoat and tie, and had ruffled hair that mostly fell to one side. It looked homemade.

"Why… why did you bring it?" asked Sherlock, he had some ideas, but wasn't certain.

"In case he comes back for me while we're here. He's a time traveller. I need him to know that it's me."

"Amy… that doctor guy isn't real."

"Yes he i- wait… did you just call me 'Amy'?"

"Yes, I thought it suited you better. Amelia Pond vs. Amy Pond. It just seems better"

"I… I suppose 'Amelia Pond' is a little too fairy tale for me…" and with that they arrived at the school.

Amelia hopped out, and Sherlock began to leave, receiving one last piece of advice from his older brother as he left.

"As I said before, her aunt put her up to it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and escorted Amelia inside.

That didn't last long, though as Amelia was immediately surrounded by a group of giggling girls. Sherlock wasn't sure what was going on with the mass, but lots were shooting him flirtatious glances, so he decided it was a good time to leave. Shame. He was hoping to spend a bit more time with her.

"OMG, How did you get a date with _Sherlock Holmes_?" screeched one. Amelia was fairly certain this girl had never said two words to her before.

"I-uh- I just asked him… and… and he said… said yes."

"You're sooooo lucky." sighed another.

Amelia did not like it there, in that writhing mass of girls she didn't know or like.

Luckily her best friend Melody came to rescue her. She was wearing a slightly tattered red dress and was dragging her date, who looked uncomfortable. He eyed the group apprehensively, then made his escape, murmuring something about punch.

Soon the rest of the girls were scared away by 'that delinquent, Melody', and the two best friends were alone.

"So…" said Melody, a knowing look in her eyes, "Sherlock Holmes…"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Not you too."

"I can't help it. He's like the perfect guy for some girls. Not me, he's too… goody-goody and-"

"He's really not." groaned Amelia.

"Not the perfect guy, or not goody-goody?"

"Neither. He's not goody-goody. I'm pretty sure he hasn't turned in any homework all semester. He's smart, though. And as for perfect… he doesn't believe in the Doctor."

"Oooh," groaned Melody sympathetically. She knew how actively Amelia believed in the doctor, especially since she herself did, as well. "Tough luck Amelia."

"Actually, I think I'd like to be called Amy now."

Melody raised an eyebrow questioningly, but before she could ask why, a distraction appeared in the shape of a lifelong friend.

"Hey Amelia." said Rory, looking dashing in his nice clothes, though rather uncomfortable. "Are, um, are you here with someone?"

"Yeah, Sherlock. And I'd think I'd like to be called Amy now." the girl replied. Melody rolled her eyes, and sent Amy a look with a clear message, 'Rory loves Amy, Rory loves Amy'.

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he escaped into the gardens. How he detested crowds, especially when it was a room full of middle school students. A.K.A. idiots. He found a quiet bench, as far away from the noise as possible, and sighed with relief as he sat down. So far he had been told by Mycroft that Amy was put up to attending the dance, argued with Amy over some imaginary doctor, then been separated from the least annoying girl in school by a crowd of annoying ones.

He closed his eyes and began contemplating a recent case development. He closed his eyes and placed his hands under his chin in a prayer position, leaning his head back. He was enjoying the cool night wind when suddenly the bench vibrated with the feeling of someone sitting down next to him.

"Hello." they said. Sherlock opened one eye and gazed at the person. It was a young woman of about twenty. She had flaming red hair, a pleasant face, and spoke with a faintly scottish accent. Sherlock immediately deduced that she'd been traveling a lot recently. She wasn't faculty… must be a parent, then. She faintly resembled… Amy, but clearly not her mother, a mother would've escorted her to the door, as would any close family member unless they weren't allowed to see the child, but there was no conceivable reason why this woman wouldn't be allowed to see a child, plus if she was charged with something she wouldn't be allowed loose in the school alone… perhaps she wasn't related to Amy...but the resemblance was uncanny…

"Have I stumped you, Sherlock?" asked the woman.

Sherlock said nothing.

She smiled. "Here's a hint. Right now my aunt is talking with your mother."

This left one option for Sherlock. "You're… Amy's older sister?"

The girl laughed, a long, happy laugh. "Close."

"Amy!" a voice called. Sherlock looked around. A man with lopsided hair, suspenders, and a bowtie of all things was calling her.

"Be there in a bit!" responded Amy.

The man rolled his eyes, but left the two alone. Suddenly something clicked in Sherlock's mind, and his eyes widened.

"The Raggedy Doctor." Sherlock murmured. "He's… real."

Amy Pond smiled. "I told you so."

And she stood, giving Sherlock a smile and a wave before rounding a corner after the bowtie-man. As Sherlock ran to follow and ask questions, a gust of wind formed once more, and by the time he rounded the wall, Amy Pond and the raggedy doctor had disappeared.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully with little discussion between Sherlock and Amelia "Amy" Pond. Sherlock didn't bring the older version up, and the two remained little more than acquaintances. It wasn't until many years later that Sherlock told her what had happened, though with the emphasis it was probably just the imaginings of a child. It was then that Amy went to the Doctor and asked to relive her own seventh grade dance.


End file.
